


Rey Lives Alone

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blindness, F/M, Fluffy, Fridge Horror, Multiple Endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: Rachel Baker has got her own house, and two jobs: teaching at the local elementary, and teaching piano!Except for a few weird noises, she's doing good living alone. Mostly alone.





	1. Rachel's House (Hello)

**Author's Note:**

> (I made this a looong time ago, and then it bred with a creepypasta that I don't know how to find)

“That was good, Max! That was good,” said Ms. Baker, and she clapped politely.

  
“Thank you,” Max murmured.

  
“Yeah! Remember, you don’t have to bang the key down! Light touches, like this,” and she tapped a higher key to demonstrate. A light A.

  
  
The piano seat creaked as Max shifted impatiently. Her hand moved to the felt top of the piano, and she patted around until she felt the rough wicker basket that she left there. “Now what were you playing?”

 

“... A C,” Max said.

 

“What kind of C?” she prompted, her fingers closing around a plastic thing that crumpled.

 

“... A staccato.”

 

“That’s right! Good job,” she cooed, and she held out the candy for him. His tiny, oily nails scraped her palm as he scooped up his prize. A scratching sound. “You can eat that later!”

 

“...mm-mm.”

 

The piano seat rocked as the boy swung his legs. Ms. Baker sighed. “Is it good?” she asked.

 

“m’Yea,” said Max. The candy clicked against his teeth.

.

After a half hour of tapping around the piano, Ms. Baker walked Max out to the front door, the porch creaking beneath her feet. Birds tittered outside, and a sweet, earthy scent lingered in the damp air. It rained, yesterday. Days like these, she could get high just from leaning on the porch railing and breathing in, out, in, out. A hushing sound, a car pulling up and rolling down a window. It called, ‘Maxwell!’ then, ‘Hi, Rachel! How’re you doing?’

  
“Good!” she replied, waving her hand in the direction of the noise. “How’re you?”

  
But at the same time, little feet stomped off from the wooden deck and down the pathway, the car door opening and slamming shut. Muffled words, and the car slid away.  
Somewhere, a lawn mower roared to life further down the street. The loud, droning noise shaking her out of her reverie. She sniffled, her nose already wet from the promise of pollen. Bluh, she had to get the friggin taxes done. And maybe bring a box of tissues from out of the pantry to put by the piano. Little kids plus spring allergies plus piano equals absolute chaos...

  
A light A played.

  
Ms. Baker straightened up, then turned to the front door.

 

Her hands met the doorframe and she walked inside, the polished floorboards creaking under her. She stepped out of her flip flops and made her way to the parlor, her bare feet on smooth wood.

  
The note played at the back of her mind, but a sweet silence met her ears. The birds called to each other outside, the lawn mower buzzed, a baby screeched in the house over.  
She forced herself to the back of the parlor, her hands waving out, and a cool, smooth surface met her touch. With her index finger, she pressed down and a high G played, clear and fresh as cold water. She tapped it a few times, a sigh of relief flowing out of her.

 

“You’re bein’ paranoid, Rey. Get it together!” She raised her hands to her face and pat her cheeks, shaking her head roughly.

* * *

  
  
It was Saturday, and it was a sweet 65 degrees Fahrenheit outside, which meant that it was time to go grocery shopping! Ms. Baker picked up her grocery lists, her purse, her sunglasses, and her cane, before waking out and locking the door behind her. She stepped out and made her way forwards, humming to herself as she tapped the cane on the sidewalk.

 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Baker!” “Hi Ms. Baker!” “Oh, hi Rey! Are you goin’ out for the day?”

 

Ms. Baker flushed and waved in the direction of all the noises. “Hi, I’m just doing some grocery shopping!” she called. It made her feel bad, but she had no idea who was talking to her. Ever. It was a small town, and Ms. Baker was a preschool teacher, but attention still wasn’t something she was used to.

It was a fault of her own, of course!

Craittown was perfect! Everyone knew each other by name, and crime sat at a near zero; everything lay within walking distance.

 

Hmm... It had been a good, long while since she last walked to the store. There was a grocery delivery program that sent someone to pick up her groceries when it got too cold. She knew it was this intersection, here, but she forgot which building. There was the Stop sign, the post office, the dispensary, and...  
She pulled one door open and little bells tinkled.

  
“- where you sleep, who you love,” murmured a low, gravelly voice. A slamming sound.

 

Ms. Baker frowned. A stinging, lemon-scented disinfectant met her nose and she grimaced. Someone sniffled, inhaled sharply. Coughed. Then, “What?” he said. Louder, “What, bitch?”

 

... Was a tv playing? That had to be it. Ms. Baker shuffled in place; Mr. Kanata did have a little tv in his shop the last time she came by. He was always complaining about how he’d only get static, thanks to Obama. Maybe he finally got a new tv?

  
“I’m talking to you, you -“

  
“she can’t see.”

 

He hissed, “what?”

  
“she can’t see,” hissed the new voice.

  
Oh. Oh! They’re real people! Embarrassment warmed her face. “Hi, um, is this the grocery store?” she squeaked.

  
“Y- n-no; next door,” said an elderly voice.

  
Next door... “So this is La Cantina?” she asked aloud.

  
“Y- yes,” he coughed out. Glass tinkled.

  
Post office, dispensary, bar, then grocery store.

  
“Yes,” he said again.

 

“I see, thank you so much!” she said, before waving goodbye and closing the door softly behind her. A stone dropped to her stomach. What was going on in there? A chill touched Ms. Baker’s shoulders, but she shook her head roughly. She probably misjudged a domestic argument. It was probably like a dad yelling at his dead-beat son: ‘where you sleep, who you love’ preceded by, uh, ‘They know’ being the police or the mob.

  
As promised, she opened the next door, and the bells chimed, and Mrs. Kanata gushed out, “Hullo, Nikki!” in her thick accent, and a few more generic voices joined hers. “I’m a little busy right now, ok?”

  
“That’s alright! I’ll wait,” said Ms. Baker.

  
“You still teaching piano?”

  
“Yeah, I just finished off today with Max and Sophia!”

  
Mrs. Kanata cried out in delight, “So cute. The other day, you know, Sophia, the little girl, she come back in here with a Hershey bar, and you know what she said to me? She say, ‘I’m sorry I took this!’”

  
Ms. Baker laughed.

* * *

  
  
Two bags of groceries later, she trundled on home-wards. An ugly bout of self-awareness kept crashing at the walls of her mood. Mrs. Baker had a compressed spine. So it was Rey’s job to be her extra-special grocery carrier; who would carry the groceries now!? Who would go with mummy to brunch, who would keep mummy company, who would play piano for mummy, who would mummy dress up in her hideous picnic-blanket cardigans or play hair-stylist with?  
(Save for the groceries, the answer was Mr. Rudy, the bischon-frisée.) To this day, she could still feel the eyes of an audience on her.

  
Screeching, roaring. A bass boomed, the music inaudible and painful to her ears. ‘WHOOOOoooo’ a voice howled, chugging the scent of carbon monoxide in its wake.

  
... Bluh, home sweet home. Back at her old city, there was always the squeal of tires on tarmac in the small hours of sleep. Those were ATV street races.  
It had taken many practice runs with Finn, and a couple wrong turns to her neighbors’ houses, but she was pretty sure she got down where her house was. About nine times out of ten! It depended on how distracted she was, like waking up to go to the bathroom. Stick hit the paved pathway, the wooden steps of the porch, the hardwood floor, the - her door was open.

  
Her door was wide open; there was no wooden barrier between the porch and the inside of her house.

 

Okay, did she

Did she lock the door before she left?

  
Birds sang to each other, a fly hummed in her ear and whisked inside and out of her home. Her palm was damp on the hardwood door beside her.  
She shut the door behind her. Locked it. The whining filled her ears.  
Rachel lived alone — or at least mostly alone. There was the fly now.


	2. (I wish your friends would go away)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thank you for reading)

The melancholy notes of Fur Elise slowed down to a stop. A soft inhale of breath. “... You seem, distracted, today,” said Mr. O’Neale, his voice low and pleasant in her ear.

Rachel ceased the gnawing of her lower lip.

“Miss Baker? Is everything alright?”

Rachel nodded her head. She flinched as something brushed her hand.

A pregnant silence followed; then, “I’m sorry,” Mr. O’Neale murmured.

She rubbed her hand against her chest, more automatic than anything. “No, no, don’t be sorry,” she hummed. “I’m - I’m just a little jumpy these days.”

His weight shifted on the bench.

“Keep playing,” Rachel muttered.

“No, Miss Baker. I do believe that I am entitled to a five minute respite.” Amusement lent a rumbling trill to his r’s. “Now, what troubles you?”

Rachel puffed air over her bangs. “You’re just as bad as Max...” It wouldn’t hurt to tell him, right? “Well, if you’re just gonna worry about it, I guess I can tell you. But it’s very stupid.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much, my dear.”

Rachel organized her thoughts. “The other day, remember how nice it was? Well, I went out, maybe to do some grocery shopping. Well, I came back, and it turns out that I left the door open. Wide open.”

Silence responded.

“Stupid of me...” She shook her head in bitter disgust. “And I could have sworn that I closed it, too, but here we are. Three days later, and I’m still - my mind can’t move on.”

And now paranoia dragged the pads of its fingers across her shoulder blades, murmuring in her ear about the things that stalked beyond her senses, silent and unseen.

No response.

“And I hear these noises, but it’s probably the house settling or them critters running all over the roof.” Rachel raised her head and sighed. “Anyway, so what’s going on in your life, Armi?”

“It’s - funny, that you mention it,” Mr. O’Neale says. “Last night, I heard a sound at my backdoor.”

The girl froze in her seat.

“I was sitting in the parlor, when I heard this violent rattling. I grabbed the rifle I keep beside my chair and stood up to investigate.” He paused, lost in thought. “The placement of my rooms is different from yours. I looked down the hall and saw the backdoor inside the kitchen, shuddering on its hinges. Did you hear anything last night? Because I screamed very loud, something embarrassing and violent.”

She didn’t check the backdoor.

“What a fallen world we live in,” he sighed. “I shudder to think what would’ve happened if... Have you seen the news, there’s - oh, but I don’t want to worry you.”

 

* * *

 

It was prolly just the seasons.

Summer added a heat to the air that settled over every inch of her skin. This was an old house, and the most comfy place to live was in the parlor, in front of the fan, with an ice tea and a book or a podcast. It was summer, and there was no classes because all the kids were at summer camp. It was a time for reading and writing and ...

Her backdoor was locked, no one was in the house, and nobody was touching the flan cups in her fridge.

It was... quiet, living in the company of yourself.

She used to get a call at 6 pm from her mother, but... the phone disappeared from its cradle. I mean, she misplaced it. Obviously it was somewhere where she lost it, but she couldn’t find it.

That wasn’t unreasonable; if it fit in her hand, it traveled with her. She sorta liked to wander whenever she had a toothbrush or a phone in-hand.

And anyway, she wasn’t missing the limelight of conversations. The hot topics in question were:

\- Trump is a moron! Why did Ivanka marry him!?

\- Your aunty says hi.

\- Anyway, here were all the rapes, murders, and missing peoples reports within your zip code. Love you!

Everything was fine! At some point, she’d probably find it where she left it. She was alone.

* * *

 

Water bottle in-hand, the girl sauntered into her living room, the soles of her naked feet sticking to either hardwood floor or soft rug. The fan hummed in her ears, tickling her hair.

Here was the dreaded part of her creative process: editing.

She was fine with walking around and dictating to Dragon, but then actually hearing the mess she spewed out in the warm and dulcet tones of Siri Male was enough to up her blood pressure. Still, it was better than driving herself crazy with the tiger mosquito that sang and whined in her ears. It was prolly _fat_ with all her blood; fat, itchy welts already littered her inner thigh and the back of her neck. Serves her right for trying to go outside...

Raising one finger, she tapped the laptop. Her fingers felt damp on the raised dots of the keyboard.

“Read back,” he said.

She lay herself out on the couch and folded her hands in her lap. “Yes please,” Rey replied.

.

“Have you seen any rivers or lakes in your travels?”

“There’s one behind there.” She nods towards the village. “It’s really, really thin.”

“Too exposed,” he gruffs. Every single wolf has their eyes on that river. The deer are gone. The hares, vanished. He wonders, “How goes it for you?”

She cocks her head, and he realizes that she didn’t understand him. The bird can’t hear his thoughts and he has spent too much time alone.

“The hunting, raven.” A raven takes mice, rats, eggs, insects, seeds, worms. A raven leads a wolf to prey to get a taste of bigger game, but they do not need bigger game he doesn’t think. Except when they do.

Her silence is heavy with an unspoken shame.

“It is hard for us all,” he confesses.

“Wait, wait,” she begins. She stands up, and her tail feathers fan out. “This whole country, the north, is in a drought. But to the south of here, there is this region called the Bread Basket. My brother went there, he said that the ocean breezes are always blowing, so it pushes the rain into the country!” She jumps around, excited. “The sky is blue, and it’s warm, so there’s orchards and vineries, and cows...”

“South...” The South is human territory - that’s what all the wolves say. Venture south and men will kill you. Stay here, though, and those same wolves will kill you instead. And it seemed likely that the humans were defending valuable land. It would be a long and dangerous journey, but if there were only a slice of territory he could hold, then... maybe, he would meet a she-wolf.

She dips her head. “Only, last time I checked, I got a letter from my brother saying there was some sort of fighting...”

There is fighting everywhere. “I will go South, then.”

The raven bobs her head.

“Is it a long journey?”

“My brother wrote that it took him about two weeks, but that’s with rest stops and sightseeing along the way...”

“What is a week?”

The raven takes a moment to respond, “... Seven days?”

“So, two, sevens?” He imagines two packs with seven wolves each. That resembles many days, and ravens move faster and farther than wolves. “Thank you.”

I

Goddammit I’m going to go pee.

_Rey Rey Rey Rey Rey Rey Reyyyyyy sing, please_

_Aaaaaaaaoooooaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

_ooo_

* * *

 

“... _Hullo_?” Rey shifted in her seat, folding her legs together. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breath hissing in and out. “ _This isn’t funny_!”

She raised her hands and clumsily navigated over her Macbook.

Siri Male sang in her ears, babbled about wolves, drowned her name until she hit the Mute button.

Her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt. It was eighty degrees and the fabric felt thin in her fingers. “ _Get out of my house_ ,” she wailed.

Outside a car alarm wailed, an ATV ripped tarmac from faraway. A mosquito whined in her ear.

Her hand lashed out to open air, where the phone was missing from its cradle. Her hands hit her alarm button: “The date is July xx, 20xx. The time is 8:02 pm,” it droned.

.

She hit it again: “The date is July xx, 20xx. The time is 10:45 pm.”

.

Her knees felt stiff; angry, burning welts marked her bare arms and knees, the mosquito humming intimately in her ear, entitled and fat as an old lover.

The date is July xx, 20xx. The time is 2:02 am.

You’re tired, Rey. Sleep, please


	3. Weekend

Ms. Baker brushed the piano keys with her fingertips, sighing internally at the sticky, scented residue left behind. 

“Max,” she scoffed.

The bench shook. Past her ankles, she could feel the swish of air kicked by swinging legs.

Sterner now, she said, “Max.”

Max made a little “yes”.

Her mouth pressed into a firm line. “What did I say about the peanut butter?” 

“Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

His legs swung faster. “...peanut butter,” he muttered.

“That’s right,” said Ms. Baker, enunciating each word so that this time they might embed into the six year old psyche. In other words, she sounded like a stern Sesame Street character: “We don’t do peanut butter on the piano.”

“mm.”

“ _Mm_ ,” Ms. Baker confirmed. “Otherwise, my piano gets sticky. Will you please wash your hands?”

The stool shook as the child nodded like a crane, the way that Rachel envisioned it. His feet clattered on the hardwood floor, and his footsteps faded as he made his way to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Rachel sighed and reached for the tissue box on top of the piano. Peanut butter would need soap later, but she had a lesson to teach. A wipe would have to suffice, and -

Her fingers pat over the piano. There was the velvet cover, the hard shape of the metronome, and... nothing else.

Her blood ran cold. Her heart sank.

Rey listened to the hush of the sink as she pat over the top of the piano. The sink shut off, and footsteps approached as Max took his time to return to his lesson. 

He stopped. “Miss Baker?” he said, his voice solemn. 

“Y-Yeah?” Ms. Baker said.

His feet shuffled on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked. A deep affection welled up in her chest. Max wasn’t the musical prodigy that his parents hoped he’d turn into, but he was a good kid all the same.

“Yeah! Yes, Max. Um, do you see a tissue box anywhere?”

Silence, then, “No, Miss Baker.”

Rey grit her teeth and forced herself to calm. Maybe a student had swiped it...? She had a feeling that Zeke swiped her cat statue from the dining table...

“Okay, then,” sighed Ms. Baker, “let’s take some paper towels from the kitchen and wipe the piano!”

Max’s groan of despair nearly helped to distract her the whole hour.

* * *

 

Ms. Baker waved Max goodbye, before reluctantly closing the door behind him. Silence stretched over the house, as taut as a wire trap.

Rey lived alone.

She didn’t need a cane to navigate her own home.

 

She waved her hand and found the hard, smooth bannister that lead upstairs. She knew for sure that there should be spare tissue boxes beneath the bathroom sink. The carpeted stairs creaked beneath her weight.

She made her way to the bathroom, the air a little cold. Her hands maneuvered to the cold handles beneath the sink, and she pulled them open. The girl spread her legs and bent down, one hand waving out to catch the shape of a box.

Behind her, a breath.

She snapped straight. A reedy “Hello?” squawked out of her mouth.

She heard no response, save for the creaking of the house. The house was old, the house was settling.

After an undefinable amount of time, the girl shook her head. She forced herself to breath. It was surely just her imagination, or maybe the old A/C system, or even a squirrel on the roof. Once more, she crouched down. Her hand slapped against the side of the sink, until she dipped her hand and felt the last cardboard box at the bottom. She would have to buy a new one when she gets the chance.

 

* * *

 

Podcasts always helped. While there were plenty of Braille books ordered by friends and family, Rachel liked having a cheerful voice in her ears. She would leave the laptop on and play something like _My Dad Wrote a Porno_ , and then splay herself on the ottoman to laugh for an hour.

A Ding! came from the laptop’s alarm clock, telling her that it was dinner time. She knew better than to carry around the bigger devices while walking — that was how she broke her ‘toys’, as mother called them. Instead, Rachel got up from the couch and waltzed to the kitchen chuckling to herself. It helped that she could hear the podcast behind her, as if there were friendly company in this house. 

Her knee hit something, pain exploded at the joint. She cried out, her hand catching the wall just in time. 

Her teeth gnashed, her leg throbbed with each heartbeat. It ached with an agonizing vengeance; it stung at the slightest brush of her finger. Gritting her teeth, she waved her hand out, and caught the side of whatever she’d hit.

The surface felt smooth on top, with cool metallic rods at the bottom. 

A stool.

Its legs scraped against the floor as she pushed it to its rightful place, exactly beneath the breakfast nook. She pressed her hand to her chest, willing herself to calm. 

Max had run in there earlier to grab a paper towel; maybe he nudged it. Children could be clumsy like that! 

 

Rachel ran her fingers past the smooth microwave and the stovetop, until her hand closed around a long, vertical handle. She pulled it open, and cold air wafted out. Rachel pulled out half a cucumber, some cold cuts in a pack, and a bottle of mustard, each item clattering on the kitchen island. She fumbled for the bread bag, and made herself a sandwich, feeling all the while as if someone were watching her do so.

* * *

 

Beneath the shower head, warm water poured over her face. She was being paranoid, obviously. She cranked the water off, and goosebumps immediately prickled over her skin, and hardened the rough tips of her breasts. The girl stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel by its place on the wall. She ran it over her face, her damp hair, her body. Then, she wrapped it over her abdomen for warmth, before stepping off the fluffy shower carpet. Her feet slapped cold on the tiles.

She hummed a soft song to herself, something like the Elmo song while Sesame Street was still on her mind. The bedroom felt slightly warmer, and she was especially appreciative of the rough carpet on her feet. Rey ran the towel over her body, and up her hair. She should get it cut soon; it’s just that she was rather embarrassed about not being able to know if she looked decent. Her hands wrung the moisture out of her hair and into the towel, goosebumps prickling her bare skin. Sighing, Rose dropped her hand to the bed.

She pat the bed, searching for the familiar texture of her pajamas.

There were the bedsheets, and her soft panties, but nothing else.

There was no way. She snatched her undergarments and clumsily threaded them over her thighs, her ears burning for another stray sound. There was nothing, right? She slapped her hands over the bed, climbing on top of it, her breasts puckering in the cold air. Needles exploded over her knee, making this another trial in pain suppression. Finally, at the edge of the bed, her hands closed around a soft shirt. 

A sigh of relief flew out of her lungs. 

Rey pulled the opening of the shirt over her head, and threaded her arms through the appropriate holes. She patted around for the shorts, but no luck, not even beneath the bed.

She could have sworn she placed the shorts! Listen, if her shirt and undies were there, why would she neglect pants!?

Gingerly, Rey’s bare thighs chafed the bed as she slid off, careful not to jostle her knee. On the floor, her feet touched something soft, thin. She heaved a sigh of relief and dipped over, swiping her shorts from off the carpet.

Behind her, the floor creaked.

Fuck it. Her hand flew to the door handle and she flew out of the room before shutting it behind her with a bang. With her hand on the bannister, muscle memory counted each footstep down to the ground level, down to safety. If she had trouble sleeping before, she certainly wasn’t gonna sleep now.

 

* * *

 

Downstairs, Rey tapped the button on her alarm clock. A monotone, digitized voice droned: “The date is August xx, 20xx. The time is 2:41 am.” She cradled the button over her stomach, sniffling.

Her hand kept wandering to the phone at her side, and each time her pride would snatch it away. It was luck that she found it; it hadn’t been in its cradle, it had been an inch away of all things.

When Rey had gone blind at the age of 12, it was as if her blindness had turned back the hands of time. She couldn’t sleep because she couldn’t separate the night from the day. She couldn’t convince herself to sleep, because at times there were these noises in her ear, sifting in that miasma of perpetual void. 

Yet those days were over; she was an adult now, 21 years old.

Yet here she was, awake.

She had four choices:

  1. Mommy, who would instantly drive over and rail at her for ever moving out;
  2. The Fuzz, which would have escalated what might have been an issue in her imagination;
  3. Mr. O’Neale, her weirdo neighbor, who told her to call him at any time if she  ** _needed_**  him;
  4. Nobody, so that she could get the fuck over this and go the fuck to sleep. If there were really a rapist or a psychopath in the house, wouldn’t she be dead already?



Her nails dug into the palm of her hand. There had been no sound from above since she ran out of her own room. The steps were a sure sign of an intruder; nothing crosses the stairs without the steady squeaking sound of weight settling on wood. 

That thing yesterday was a dream. A dream. She fell asleep editing her dumb, idiot fantasy book and it crawled its way into her nightmares.

If she left the tv on low, she could lull herself to sleep on the ottoman. Her hand found the remote (which of course was in its place by the corner table) and turned on the tv, to some channel selling fry baskets. ¡ **LOOK AT ALL THEse chicken wings**...! Exhaustion seeped into her body, and she felt herself sink into the soft cushions, which molded nicely against her.

* * *

 

 

 

She could feel his presence beneath her skin. Silence, that tripwire, lay snapped in the air. The animal was already in here, with her.

His breath tickled her cheek, and she could sense some emotion from his very proximity. 

  
An anticipation. A hunger. She heard the soft, wet sound of a man licking his teeth.

 

Rey swung her fist at thin air. She kicked the void.

She bolted upwards and screamed “LEAVE ME ALONE!”, the sound cracking the air.

The only response was the sound of her breath, rushing in her ears, and... the tv. It was still on, turned to some shitty horror movie if one went by the obnoxious screaming sounds. 

She shook her head, her eyes burning. She crossed her legs and dropped her face to her hands. 

A choking tide broke over her walls and flooded the carefully tendered pride and dignity that she had built up since the age of 12. She wept, softly, into her hands.

And that was okay, because she was alone.

At least, she thought she was alone.


	4. Rey Lives Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry

A soft, gentle sound rose from beside her. She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to silence herself. Unchecked gasps of silent laughter trickled into the edges of her conscience, ephemeral as mist. After, the silence was so thick, she wondered if she imagined it all.

She did not.

“Rey,” he said, and his voice sent a tremor down her spine. It was deep, and it carried an intimacy that should never have come from something like... like this, like this hellhole situation.

She heard a hushing sound, and something brushed her face. She winced backwards, her head thumping the sofa cushions. There was that suppressed laughter again.

“Rey,” he cooed. A hand closed around her cheek, warm and rough. Its thumb brushed the corner of her eye. Opposite, a tissue paper ruffled against her face in long strokes. The tissue pinched at her nose before leaving her face, and he laughed again. “Wish you could see how pretty you are,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “Damn near strikes me dumb every time I see you...”

He tittered. “Well it’s... ‘bout 4 am.” There was a click, and the alarm confirmed: The date is August xx, 20xx. The time is 4:32 am. Wake up, Rey, you’re having a nightmare, “You’ve had your fun these past few days, but I think it’s about time you get your beauty rest, Rey.”

Before she could even consider that, hands wrapped around her and lifted her up in the air. She cried out at her sudden weightlessness, and beside her, the man chuckled. “Gosh... you’re so light,” he murmured ruefully. Something brushed her brow before he started walking.

 

* * *

 

He blathered aimlessly about nothing (the weather and the dogs that barked at him), while making the squeaking and moaning journey up the wooden stairs, before making a turn left - to her bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind them, then the mattress coils squealed as he sat himself down. Rey felt him sit her in his lap, and she realized with horror that she could feel something poking at her bottom. When she tried to move out of his grasp, he pulled her tighter to himself, grunting with satisfaction and chuckling.

“Stop,” she whined, and her fingers twisted in his shirt as she tried to push him away,

His hand tangled with the hair at her scalp and he gave a warning tug that made her grit her teeth. His other hand rested on her bare thigh.

“Behave,” he drawled.

She released him, dropping her hands in her lap. Hesitantly, he guided her head to his chest. Her ear rested over his heart; he breathed beside her with slow, easy breaths. The fingers at her scalp eased.

“Better,” he said, and she could hear the sickening smile on his lips.

They sat like that for an indescribable amount of time, the girl frozen and the man stroking her shoulder with his free hand, his chin settling over the crown of her head. Each of his breaths carded past her hair.

Convinced that she wasn’t going to die immediately, Rey opened her mouth and formed a question: “Who are you?” Her voice sounded small and pathetic in her ears.

 

“… I guess my voice alone isn’t enough, is it?” he said, rueful. “… Today, you can call me Kylo,” he said in a jaunty tone. “I was named ... well, acshully, I chose my name. I choose all my names. What about you, Miss Rey Baker? Who - why are you? You don’t bake Reys, least I never see...”

 

“I...” don’t remember meeting a ‘Kylo’. Rey didn’t know anyone here at all.

He laughed again, louder now that she had her head resting on the source. It was a brash, genuine thing. “You’re so cute, y’know that Rey?” he gushed. “You look like one’a those cross-eyed possums, like that one in that zoo in Moscow.”

( _She_ can't see it, but _you_ can; Exhibit A)

  
  


Despite herself, she felt a touch of white-hot anger at being compared to a rodent. He saw her as a sideshow attraction and got infatuated. “Listen, take - take anything you want,” she said. “Please put me down.”

The man quieted. He exhaled sharply out of his nose.

 

Rey swallowed her rising fear and continued, “I - I can’t... identify you, or anything, so... you can take what you want, and then leave! I - I won’t call the police, I don’t even - know where the phones are...”

“What do you think I want, Rey?” he asked patiently.

“I ... I don’t -“

“Guess.”

She choked. Sniffled.

He clicked his teeth, and his legs shuffled beneath her;  ** _it_**  rubbed right between her legs.

“Believe it or not, we did meet,” he began, his voice low in her ear. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked from side to side. “Saw you... what was it, walking down the street ‘n tapping your cane. Figured you’d be an easy mark: blind, female, lived alone.

Harsher now, “Wall-eyed, walked around like she knew this town n’ that everybody was  ** _so_**  happy to see her, the blind cunt that tinkered around on the piano.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, making her strain to hear him: “Pretty, and sweet,” and she felt the touch of his lips on her brow, “n’ in her was the beauty that made the flowers that much brighter.” He shook her gently, breath hot on her face as he touched her forehead with a wet smack of his mouth. She shook her head, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “You sleep like the dead, baby girl. Sometimes I’d snuggle up with you under the blankets…”

 

 “I... you,” she said quickly. “I - I don’t... Thank you, but I am fine by myself...”

 

“No you’re not,” he said.

 

“Yes, I -“

 

“You’re really not, sweetheart. What’s to keep a man from sneaking in here and using a pretty thing like you as his fleshlight?” he asked matter-of-factly.

 

“ ** _Kylo_**.” Her hand closed over her mouth, trying to keep in the words she so wanted to hurl at him.

 

“ ** _Rey_** ,” he said, matching her tone. “Sorry for getting crude there, but I’m serious. This is a nice neighborhood and you’re a good girl who don’t go lookin for bad attention, but like your mama says you’re all alone. You need protection.” She could feel him smiling.

“But- please, I don’t -”

 

He hushed into her hair. A pressure touched the small of her back, finger pressing to a node in her spine until it hurt, until she arched her back to try to escape the pain.

... _Dear God, please let him be that much more delusional. Dear God, please don’t let him kill me_. Hesitantly, she raised her hand and settled it over his chest. She could feel his heart beat against her palm. He was mortal, like her.

The wall-eyed possum said, “All this time I’ve been so alone, so... lonely, in this house. People, kids, come and go, but all they see is - is, this, blind lady. They don’t see me.  ** _You’ve_**  seen me.”

All this time, Rey thought she was alone, while some sick weirdo pranced around her like a fucking ghost and moved her things around.

“I - I know I’m a shut-in... I know I’m introverted,” she said. “I... Never in my life, did I expect a man like you, to...”

Her fingers moved in a small circle as she meditated over her next words. She felt as if she walked a knife’s edge.

His hand grabbed her scalp and then her mouth met something hot, and wet. Her breath escaped her, her mind fled. She opened her mouth and  ** _it_**  slipped in, tasting stale as it brushed her tongue and writhed across her teeth. The man grunted before tugging her face up, and his teeth grazed her neck. He bit down and sucked on the skin, her hair stinging at the scalp and Rey biting down a scream at all that was happening to her. He released her with a wet sound, fingers untangling from her hair to settle on her hip.

“Mm,” he grunted, before smacking his lips. “Gotta teach you how to kiss, Rey.”

Hollow inside, “Kylo,” she said, her mouth cold and wet with his spit and his name. She felt herself clutching to his shirt.

“Yes?” he hummed.

“May... may I kiss you back?”


	5. Ending 1: ah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry  
> when the weather gets nice my urge to write drops

Please may he be stupid.

Kylo shuffled against her. “What do you mean? You want a round two?” Eagerness added a boyish touch to his voice.

She tucked her chin against her chest, feigning bashfulness. Her throat constricted. Leaden fingers uncurled from his shirt, and she raised them in helpless surrender.

Rey said, “You... you said that I was... was -.“ A possum. “- cute.”

The way his body shook beside her told her that he was nodding.

“I can’t see you, though,” she said weakly.

“... I’m... nothin to write home about,” he said. “That’s alright. That’s alright, you’ll make cute babies no matter what I put in the batter,” he added cheerfully.

Sure. Okay. Her conscience felt like it was being ripped in half. “... They might turn out like me,” she confessed, trying to give him an out.

“Gosh, well wouldn’t that be cute,” he gushed. He bounced his hips, the bed squeaked, his cock throbbed beneath her.

He was getting sidetracked. “Kylo, before all that... Could I see you?”

 

She raised her fingers. “Let me just...  ** _feel_**  what you look like.” The words tasted like bullshit in her mouth. Rey didn’t go around touching people’s faces to know them, but... God, please let him believe. Please make him a moron.

“You can do that!?” he gasped breathlessly. 

Rey gave the tiniest of nods.

“Oh boy... And that’s what the ‘kiss’ that you mean!?” 

Sure, buddy.

“So friggin romantic...” His hands left her body and circled around her wrists, like manacles. 

He choked, “Never thought I’d see the day you’ll akshully touch me... I mean, I’ve - I’ve pet you in your sleep...”

“Ok.”

Lips brushed her fingertips, and then she felt the warm, oily skin of the man before her. His hands left her wrist. “So, do you just picture what it is your fingers feel? That’s so cool...”

Rey could only picture the faces she remembered from when she was 12 years old. Hence, the boyish excitement in his voice, the oiliness of his skin, and the salty musk of his breath didn’t help what she was preparing to do. His hair curled around her fingertips, his nose felt rough beneath her thumbs. And he chattered on and on, ‘I’m brunette, but sometimes I’ll dye it when I gotsta hide... And I know I need a bath. I ate Pringles for dinner.’ Her heart constricted as she felt the roughness of his eyebrows, and the fluttering of his eyelashes.

The chatter stopped. “Rey,” he whined.

She gripped down and plunged her thumbs in.

Screaming.

Kylo threw his head back and thrashed beneath her, a raw noise tearing out of his throat. Her fingers gripped hard around the shape of his skull, his eye sockets forming natural holes that trapped her thumbs. Something wet squelched beneath her nails.

All at once, his hands found her shoulders and he pushed, shoved, shoved her away, cries tearing out of his throat. She fell to her back onto the floor. Her ears rang. 

Numb, she stumbled to her feet and felt her way out the door, trying to wipe away the slimy liquid that clung to her hands. Behind her, muffled sobs echoed from her bedroom. 

Her slippery hands met the banister, and she negotiated each creaking step beneath her on new legs. She felt her way to the front door, turning the lock until it clicked.

It was August, the late summer.

A hot wind blew past her bare legs and twisted through her hair. The pavement felt warm and rough against her feet. The air tasted hot and sweet in her lungs as she made her way to her neighbor’s, the vitreous drying on her hands.

 

xxx

 

Mom made sure to visit, now, at least once a week. It was a one hour drive to and back, but worth it for her baby girl. Rey suspected that she also called for the weekly welfare checks from the local police. His name was Matt, he liked a nice cup of coffee and any pastries if you had some (which he sincerely needed because he was so thin), and he also came with news from The Front as he so liked to call it. Gruff, but sympathetic, and... he respected her in a way that few did.

 

‘Kylo’ or ‘Ren’ or whatever the fuck his name was was wanted as a suspect in a string of home invasions and sexual assaults in three counties. The prosecution was hoping to lock him up for life, but what with his... condition, he was willing to let the man live out the rest of his natural life in a state mental hospital or under house-arrest.

 

The last admission always came out choked, followed by a loud sip of black coffee.

 

It pained Rey, but she suspected that Matt saw her as some sort of monster. Everyone did. She wasn’t the cute blind girl anymore, she was that lady who poked out some poor dude’s eyes. He was the unfortunate robber, and she was the witch that did him in. A bitter smile spread itself across her face. For all her stink about finding independence, she was truly adrift. Her piano students all pulled out, the school let her go for some nebulous reason about parent complaints...

 

“So you don’t regret at all what you done,” Matt sniffed.

 

Rey snapped up to the direction of his voice.

 

“You messed him up real good,” he added, his voice low and tipped with venom. “He don’t speak no more, he don’t smile, he just... watches.”

 

Who you love. 

 

Wait, wait a minute... Rey brought a finger to her brow, where it stung sometimes. 

 

Matt coughed. “I’m ... sorry,” he said, threading a note of sympathy back inside his voice. “Sorry, just... been a hard year.” He sniffed loudly.

 

Rey felt a change in the air, all the same. She couldn’t move. 

 

“It’s just, at the precinct, we don’t see many cases like yours.”

 

“Alright,” she said. “Matt, um... I know that Craittown doesn’t want me anymore.”

 

Silence met her.

 

“And that’s fine. This is a nice, great town, and I know that I am not a nice person now.” At the back of her mind, she wondered if maybe they wanted her to get raped. The thought made her brow knit and her teeth gnash these past few nights, but she kept the question to herself. “I’m gonna move back in with my mother.”

 

The floor creaked behind her. 

 

Matt was in front of her, so who -

 

Her head snapped around at the source of the noise.

 

Matt snorted; she could hear its solemn disdain. She heard a click. “You wanna talk about mothers?” he asked softly.

 

The floor creaked behind her. 

 

Rey lived alone, she thought she lived alone, but goddammit this world was fallen in every which way. “Hell - hello? Who’s there?” Her voice left her throat in a reedy whine. “Matt?”

 

“You see,  ** _my_**  mother, she thinks that Kylo can still get some use out of you,” Matt snipped, as he did so in that bar and grill so long ago. “Can’t imagine what; she’s always been the more creative one. Keeps waving around a power drill, talking about making you his perfect sweetheart...”

 

Rey shuddered, her wet hands gripping the chair behind her so hard her fingers ached.

 

“Myself, on the other hand, prefer the quicker route.” There was raw pain in his voice. “Real shame it had to be this way, Rey.”

 

Rey slipped out of the chair and slammed against a body, the wind knocked out of her. She was spun around, her arm wrenched behind her and pressed tight to her back. 

 

“Choice number three, what’s say we do her what Ren planned?” laughed the body behind her, and he shook her roughly enough that her spine felt like a bamboo pole.

 

Rey shook her head, fear so thick that it overpowered her senses. She was 12 and a half, she was having a nightmare again, any moment she would wake up and the monsters would be gone.

 

“... What do you want, Rey?”

 

**Ending 1: to wake up**

 


	6. The little death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I been ded for 2 months tryin to git a job. Hopefully I can make more time now that summer is rolling down?

Now, that wasn’t a good end, was it?

 

The girl sniffled, rubbed her leaky eyes on the pillow, started again.

 

xxx

 

_Please make him dumb_.

 

Kylo fidgeted against her. “You - you want a round two!?” Eagerness heightened his voice.

 

She tucked her chin against her chest, dying inside. Leaden fingers uncurled from his shirt, and she raised them in a gesture of helplessness.

 

Rey said, “You... you said that I was... was ... _cute_.” Cute as a rodent in a Russian zoo.

 

His body shook against her; he was nodding like an eager seal.

 

“I can’t see you, though,” she said.

 

Soft, bashful. “... I’m... nothin to write home about,” he said. “But... That’s alright. That’s alright! You’ll make cute babies no matter what I put in the batter,” he added cheerfully.

 

She wanted to scream at him; she wanted to scream until her lungs gave out, until she could die. “... They might turn out like me,” she confessed instead.

 

“Gosh, well wouldn’t that be cute,” he gushed. He bounced his hips, the bed squeaked, his cock throbbed beneath her.

 

“No, Kylo,” she insisted. “I went blind at 12. For no reason the doctors could figure out -”

 

“I don’t mind!”

 

Of course he wouldn’t understand. Of course. She could feel something inside her crumbling down, and it couldn’t have been her self-esteem because that was already in rubble. Look, the both of them were getting sidetracked. “Kylo, Kylo, before all that... Could I see you?”

 

Silence.

 

She raised her fingers. “Let me just...  ** _feel_**  what you look like.”

 

“You can do that!?” he gasped, breathlessly.

 

Rey could not, but she nodded anyway.

 

“Holy cow... And that’s the ‘kiss’ what that you mean!?”

 

Sure.

 

“So friggin romantic...” His hands left her body and circled around her wrists, like manacles.

 

He choked noisily, “Gosh... really wish you could see how cute you are right now.” A wet sound. She could really smell the tang on his breath. “When you first... stripped in front of me, I thought I’d just about died. And now you... you’re gonna be... touchin me, and seein’ me, and and... I...”

 

“Ok.”

 

He cleared his throat. Lips brushed her fingertips, and then... oh god, she was tracing his lips. His hands left her wrist. A tongue darted out, soft and wet against her skin, and he let out a groan. “Do... you just picture me in 3-D? That’s so cool, like like Daredevil...”

 

Rey could only picture the faces she remembered from when she was a 12 year old middle schooler. She kept envisioning the six foot tall eighth grader that breathed through his mouth and smelled like hotdog water. His hair curled around her fingertips, his nose felt rough beneath her thumbs. Some acne on his chin really brought to mind that memory of tall, oily and shiny VanHousen. And he chattered on and on, ‘You been stuck at home these past few days, so I don’t get the chance to bathe... Hopefully that changes. Oh, and y’know, your family is mine, now, baby doll...’ Her heart constricted as she felt the fluttering of his eyelashes.

 

The chatter slowed to a stop.

 

...

 

“Four-Two-Three Lakeview Street,” he choked.

 

Her thumb dropped, brushing past his ear. Rey couldn’t poke out VanHousen’s eyes, she couldn’t - the image of his slack-jawed face, his eyes red boreholes...

 

“ - in Flatwood County, the - the one with the plastic flamingos out front,” he rattled on, her fingers tracing the stubble on his jaw. He inhaled, he exhaled raggedly, his face leaning to meet her touch.

 

“... What?” she said. Flamingos? Flatwood County, that was her old city, but the street was unfamiliar.

 

He was silent for a moment.

 

“Welp... I ... know you’re here now,” she said, “so, you can take that bath that you wanted.” He needed to leave her alone so that she could run.

 

He grunted an affirmative. In one terribly smooth motion, Kylo lay her on the bed, her head landing on the pillows. “Um... thank you,” she said.

 

“You stay there, alright?” he said, and his voice cracked like VanHousen’s. It made her smile despite herself. “M’ serious. I’ll leave the bathroom door open in case you wanna... pay a visit, but you  ** _stay_**.”

 

Rey heard his footsteps. The door closed. She waited, and waited, until the sound of the thundering shower head rumbled on. It was like a weight off her soul. Hesitantly, she slipped off of the bed.

 

She opened the door and ran out, before crashing face first into a solid chest. Arms latched around her.

 

“ **I GOT YOU! I GOT YOU**!” he screamed, and then he laughed as though the world were ending while Rey struggled and thrashed against him.

 

“Lemme go-“

 

“ **YOU’RE MINE**!”

 

“ **STOP YELLING**!” she pleaded, her ears ringing.

 

“ _sorry, sorry. you’re mine_ ,” he said in a small voice, and his mouth pecked the side of her head.

 

He forced her back into the bedroom, jostling and shoving her. He laid her out on the bed, far rougher this time, gripping her wrist so hard that the bones threatened to snap.

 

A clinking sound.

 

Cold metal threaded around her wrist, clasped. Screaming, Rey tried to yank her arm away, when something whipped hard across her face. Stunned, winded, the girl heard clicking and the jingle of metal on metal. She tugged at her wrist, and there was a tension that kept it in place. Handcuffs, she was handcuffed to her bed.

 

She should’ve skewered his eyes out.

 

‘Oh my god,’ she breathed. ‘Oh my god...’ A despair settled over her as she realized what she’d allowed to happen, what would happen next.

 

He brushed her cheek and her head snapped away from him. “sorry,” he murmured again. “Sorry, baby doll. Can’t have you runnin’ around in your pjs and hurtin yourself...” He brushed her sore knee, and more out of the context of where he touched than the pain did she buckle her legs and swivel away from his location. He could’ve won an Oscar for the regret that weighed down his voice. “I’ll just take a quick shower and brush my teeth, alright? I’ll be right back; you just get some sleep without me. If not, I mean, I’ll find something for your face and that knee...”

 

“Kylo, wait,” she begged, “ ** _please_**  just let me  ** _go_**.”

 

“... Do you need something to sleep, baby doll?”

 

“No, Kylo, I - I -“ Rohypnol, chloroform, carfentanil... “...no.”

 

“... I’ll be real quiet when I walk back in,” he murmured. “G’night, Rey.”

 

xx

 

“G’mornin’, Rey.”

 

A groan tore out of her throat. Chuckling, low and pleasant, threaded in her ear.

 

The blanket lifted off of her, then a warm hand slipped beneath her shirt and cupped her breast. It tickled, it really did; she fidgeted and tried to bat the hand away, but something jingled loudly. Fingers teased her nipple and a mewl left her as she arched her back.

 

“ ** _Fuck_** ,” he hissed. “Fuck me, Rey, you’re so cute...”

 

His fingers left her body, and a weight settled to the sides of her hips, the mattress squeaking as it sank. He violently wrenched her shirt up.

 

Rey really woke up. She remembered last night. “No,” she deadpanned.

 

She heard the whirr of a zipper.

 

“ ** _Nooo_** ,” she whined, and the handcuffs jangled as she yanked at them. With her free hand, she tugged her shirt down, but his hand caught her wrist. He tugged her shirt back up before pinning her hand beside her head.

 

Kylo, for that was his name, hushed her gently. “Not gonna put it in you, alright? Lemme explore you. The calmer you are, the faster I uncuff you, is that alright?”

 

She turned her face away, his breath hot beneath her ear. Tears came to her eyes as his mouth brushed her hair. “Good girl,” he breathed.

 

Whatever it was that Kylo thought he was doing, he certainly enjoyed it. She felt him stroke her face, her neck, her breasts, his lips ghosting after. The hard tip of his manhood poked her whenever he lowered himself, the man making a low noise in his throat. None of it was particularly ‘better’ than any other part, but Rey just about wished for death when his free hand slipped past the band of her underwear, trailed her hip bones, and slid between her legs.

 

“ ** _No_** ,” she snapped, her pleading mantra for those uncountable minutes.

 

“You keep yourself really clean, but I think you’ll -“

 

“Kylo -“

 

“- we’ll shave a little down there, baby doll -“

 

“ ** _Kylo, please -_** “

 

She had no idea what he was doing, but his fingers traced something down there that sent tremors up her spine. Of all his ministrations, this one was by far the worst as it stung with a silent threat of destruction.

 

“Never seen you play with yourself,” he said with a rueful tone.

 

An agony of a different sort coursed through her.

 

He laced his fingers around her numb, free hand and guided it down the band of her underwear.

 

“I seen you have dreams. Dreams about somebody lovin’ you good and well, but not when you’re awake. Your dream man... He don’t follow you to the real world, do he?” He chuckled, like water trickling past stones.

 

She shook her head, wishing she would wake up from this nightmare.

 

“Not til now, at least.” He guided her fingers to parts of her, naming them under his breath and cooing to her with small praise. She breathed, flinching and twisting whenever nails scratched.

 

A breath. A snort. He dissolved into laughter, before dropping on top of her like a sack of potatoes, his cock crashing into her and his face hitting her neck and her hand smashed against his inside her panties.

 

Kylo cackled, a hyena at her neck.

 

 


End file.
